Time After Time
by Christy C
Summary: Dean doesn't run into Elliot Ness in 1944, but James "Bucky" Barnes. AU For Supernatural Episode 07x12: Time After Time. Possible Eventual Dean/Bucky.
1. Chapter 1

Bucky was angry at Steve, angry at the Commandos, angry at the army in total. It was one tiny little gun shot wound. And sure, his shoulder hurt like a son of a gun, and yeah, he was a sniper, but he could handle it!

But no.

Instead, he got shipped back to the U.S. to heal up. Dammit. He was going to get right back out there as soon as the stupid doctors cleared him, but he hated leaving Steve out there all the same.

Still, he was glad to be in New York again. He got to see some dames before he went back out and, it was probably good that he was back, because he didn't see anyone capable of handling the insane guy that just popped out of the alley in front of him with a gun.

"Hey...what's buzzin', cousin?" Bucky offered, holding his hands up placatingly as he approached. Crazy Eyes turned his gaze to him, gun twitching in his hand.

"What?"

"What's going on buddy?" Bucky repeated, and the man blinked, seemingly more confused.

"Where-_when _am I?" he questioned, moving the gun around for emphasis. Didn't even seem to realize he was doing it, but Bucky certainly did.

"Come on pal. How about you put the gat away and I'll help you however I can?" Bucky offered, eyes wide and earnest. The man looked even more confused, but seemed to follow Bucky's gaze and land on the gun.

Glancing around again, Crazy Eyes slipped the gun behind his back, putting it in the waistband of his pants. Bucky relaxed slightly. As the man held up a badge, Bucky moved forward, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh...who are you? Because last time I checked, it's 1944..." he mused, and Crazy Eyes stared at him, slowly pulling the obviously fake FBI badge back.

"Wait...what?!" Bucky glanced around, nothing the attention they were getting. He really didn't want to handle the cops right now. Sure, Crazy Eyes seemed a bit...well, crazy, but pretty harmless...in spite of the gun. He seemed more confused then out for blood...

"Look, how about I buy you some hooch and you can ask me whatever you want, yeah?" Bucky offered.

Crazy Eyes' eyebrows shot up, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, I don't think getting a hooker would solve anything."

"Hooker?!" Bucky sputtered, and Crazy Eyes nodded, watching him warily.

"Like, hoochie, right?" he asked slowly and Bucky was even more confused.

"No! What the hell is a hoochie and what does it have to do with a prostitute!? I'm talking about whiskey!" he objected.

"Oh! Well then, yeah, sure..." Crazy Eyes muttered, rubbing his forehead. Bucky shook his head.

"Yeah, sure..." Bucky echoed, wondering if he had already gotten himself too deep...

* * *

Bucky probably should have thought this through a bit more. He should have at least brought the guy to a tailor or something. Everyone was staring at them. Bucky shrugged their eyes off. They were used to him here. Hopefully they gave him a little trust and didn't call the cops on him and his weird friend.

"So, I take it you're new to the city? You seem like a real wheat..." Bucky mused, sipping at his whiskey and watching the other man out of the corner of his eye.

"A real...wheat?" Crazy Eyes repeated, brow furrowing. Bucky sighed.

"Jeez, are you new to the decade too?" he teased, wondering why the guy didn't seem to understand him half the time. Was he some sheltered rich boy who didn't know any slang?

"Uh...yeah, actually." Bucky's brow furrowed, watching Crazy Eyes scratch the back of his neck as he admitted this.

"Wait...what?" he questioned, gesturing for the bartender to fill him up again. Getting drunk seemed like the only way to handle this guy.

"I...you're going to think I'm crazy." Bucky snorted, if only the guy knew the nickname he got already. "Little late for that, eh?" Crazy Eyes guessed, lips pulling up into a smirk and Bucky nodded.

"Just a bit." he agreed, "So really, hit me with the best you got." Bucky was pretty sure he could handle it. Crazy Eyes seemed to ponder it for a few seconds, before shrugging.

"Okay. I'm from the future. I was chasing this monster, managed to get ahold of it, a red light popped up, and then I was chasing the monster again. Just in an alley in the forties this time."

Bucky continued staring at Crazy Eyes for a few silent minutes before blowing out a breath. "Okay then. How can I help you track down this monster thing then? Guessing you want to go back to your time." Bucky nodded his thanks to the bartender, drinking some more whiskey.

"Wait...that's it?" Something lit up in Crazy Eyes. "Are you a hunter?" he asked, voice hushed, leaning towards him some. Bucky's tilted his head.

"No, why? What does that have to do with anything? Unless this so-called monster is a deer or something..." Crazy Eyes shook his head.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it...then why do you just _accept _my story?" he asked skeptically, and Bucky could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out if Bucky was about to tackle him and take him to a mental hospital. He chuckled.

"I've seen a lot of stuff. I went to war-" he paused to chuckle at the look of trepidation on Crazy Eyes' face. "-calm down this isn't some weathered veteran's woeful tale. I went to war and I saw my best friend turn from a scrawny 90 pound artist to a 6 foot tall, 190 pound muscled soldier in a matter of months. And I saw an average looking guy rip off his face to show off a red skull. This is really not the weirdest thing I've heard of." Bucky chuckled, sipping his drink. Crazy Eyes' brow furrowed.

"Dude, you just gave me the plot line to a Captain America comic..." Crazy Eyes pointed out, and Bucky raised an eyebrow.

"Uh...yeah, but I'm talking about the actual guy, dingy." he chuckled, before turning to offer his hand to the man. Crazy Eyes stared at it for a few seconds before shaking his head.

"Sure, why not..." he muttered, shaking Bucky's hand. "Wait...best friend...Bucky!" he declared, sounding mighty proud of himself and Bucky nodded.

"Wow, you a fan of the comics then?" he was amused to see Crazy Eyes flush red.

"No, I mean, I've read them, but I wouldn't say a fan..." Shaking his head, the man continued, "I'm Dean Winchester."

"Nice to meet ya Dean. Now, let's find that monster of yours, yeah?"


	2. Chapter 2

It took a few shots of whiskey before Bucky just took the bottle from the bartender. He was still trying to figure out some things about this Dean Winchester guy.

"So, monsters huh? What'cha thinking this thing that apparently brought you back in time is?" Bucky questioned curiously.

"I...have no idea. A witch? A god? I don't know, never seen anything like it before." Bucky nodded slowly and Dean wondered how much pushing he could do before he would get a freakout from Bucky. No one was this cool about the sudden realization that things _do _go bump in the night.

"Hey...okay, I gotta ask you something." Bucky tilted the whiskey bottle towards him, gesturing for him to continue. "Well...I mean...what's it like? Knowing Captain America?" Okay, so he might have had a bit of an obsession with those old comics back when he was a kid.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, "Irritating as all holy hell. He thinks that just because he suddenly has some muscles he can take outrageous risks. I swear to God, he's gonna kill me from a heart attack one of these days. I mean, he's still some scrawny kid from Brooklyn to me, a little brother in everything but blood and watching him do some of the things he does..." he blew out a breath, "Again, heart attack, I swear."

Dean's lips curled up, "I got a little brother. They're pains in the ass, aren't they?" Bucky laughed, nodding his agreement. "And...hell, he's all alone in the future now..."

"Yeah, well, Steve's all alone at war now, so..." Bucky shrugged, guzzling some of the bottle before offering the remainder to Dean.

Dean accepted the bottle with a shake of his head, "Back in my time, we're practically at war. With some things called _Leviathans_. Nasty monsters." Dean shook his head again, "We have absolutely no idea how to kill them. It sucks."

"Shoot them?" Bucky stated, as if that was obvious. Dean shook his head. "Wait, you're telling me that if you shoot them, they don't die?" Dean shook his head again, lips curling up into a slightly amused smirk at the other's incredulous tone.

"Don't die if you cut off their heads either. Nothing. They just keep healing themselves." Dean nodded and Bucky blew out a breath.

"Phew, jeez, I think I can handle Nazis when compared to unkillable monster things." Bucky shook his head.

"You're pretty unkillable yourself." Dean stated nonchalantly and Bucky raised an eyebrow at him.

"I can guarantee that if you shoot me, I'm gonna die."

"I meant in your comic books..." Dean flushed again at the look Bucky sent him.

"Aww, do you want me to sign your comic book little boy?" Bucky cooed teasingly and Dean shoved him, nearly knocking him off the barstool but causing Bucky to laugh.

"Shut your mouth." Dean grumbled, finishing off the beer before moving to stand. "...hey, you gotta a place to stay?" Bucky snorted, offering the bartender the money to pay before standing as well.

"Not a good place. We just got out of a bad money time." Bucky tsked and it took Dean a few seconds to connect the dots and realize, oh yeah, Great Depression. "But hey, you're welcome to stay." And that officially overflowed Dean's niceness quota, no one just _did _something like this...

"Why are you helping me anyway?" Dean questioned, sounding almost suspicious. Bucky's eyebrows shot up.

"I'm on military leave thanks to getting shot in the shoulder. I need something to do besides women." he answered cheekily, lips pulling into a smirk. His candid words actually startled a laugh out of Dean.

"Well Bucky, you ain't half bad." Bucky snorted at his actually surprised tone. Evidently he thought Bucky wasn't going to be good.

"Thanks pal, right back at you."

* * *

"Oh holy fuck! What the hell is that?" Bucky rolled his eyes, ignoring the _thing _crawling by his foot as he crossed his arms and stared up at Dean, on top of his bed.

"A cockroach. I'm assuming. Or a rat." Bucky spared a glance down, before kicking the cockrat away. It scuttled away and into a wall in a matter of seconds.

"This is where you _live_?!" Dean questioned incredulously. Because yeah, he'd slept in a lot of crappy places, but this? God.

"Told you, went through a bad money time. Everyone did. This is actually one of the nicer apartments." Bucky nodded, unashamed, "Come on. I thought you hunted _monsters_, you can't handle a little cockroach?"

"_Little_? Hell, _cockroach_? I could handle it if it wasn't some hybrid of every rodent and bug in the universe." Dean snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and wavering a bit on the uneven springs of Bucky's bed.

"Okay, whatever pal. Get off my bed." Bucky sighed, dropping his hands to his waist.

"_Fuck no_."

Bucky sighed, kicking off his shoes before jumping up onto his tiny twin size bed and shoving Dean. Dean growled, grabbing his arms and they fell in a flurry of arms and legs, the bed springs creaking ominously beneath their combined weight.

"God, you're a freaking child!" Bucky complained, shoving at Dean's hand in his face and growling in irritation.

"No! I'm a man who knows that creepy things like whatever the fuck that is, should not be anywhere near me!" Dean snapped back, twisting Bucky's arm, luckily not the one with the shoulder wound.

"Well, that's funny, since you're the one sleeping on the floor." Bucky grunted as Dean accidentally (or not) kneed him in the stomach.

"No way! I'm the guest! Shouldn't you be doing that? Good host and all that crap?"

"No way! I'm not sleeping with the cockroach-rat thing!"

A few more minutes of tussling, grunts and growls, and objecting bed springs, they laid back to back on the tiny twin sized bed, glaring at their respective walls.


End file.
